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Broken. Through.

Broken. Through.

Broken

 
I ferried the stones with such care from where they sit gracing my
home to where they are now graced by the moon/sun, recharging
by the cosmic light of the heavens, the worlds known and unknown.
 
Among my many precious stones is one whom I turn to again and
again, keeping it always close to hand, oft tucked under my pillow 
so that I may curl it into the palm of my flesh and feel its power.
 
Chrysanthemum stone. A polished oval fitting wholly, perfectly in 
my open paw, poised atop a carefully gathered bundle of stones,
fell onto the slate of the place where moonbeams fall, and broke.
 
Oh! Not you! No, not you, I thought. Heartbroken for my clumsiness,
my lack of better care, my failure to safeguard its journey. Steeping
in the hot brew of these thoughts/feelings I took myself up to bed.
 
Preceded by a sacred soak in a salty bath sprinkled with clary sage —
balance. Still, steeping: what does it mean?…to break a beloved stone
the night of this new moon/solar eclipse dawn? And the bell struck.
 
And my inner self spoke: what does it mean to you? And I thought,
how perfect, really, this new symbol, this new break with the past. 
Breaking all the limits, thinking, beliefs masquerading as my own.
 
That I am not enough, not smart, clever, beautiful, worthy, valuable,
capable, able enough to do/be whatever it is I wish. Even something as
insignificant as transporting a beloved stone safely to a moonstruck windowsill. 
 
Breaking these bindings unwittingly, unconsciously blinding my sense, my
freedom. My whole. Broken. Open. As seeds, flowers—hearts do. This stone has done, 
rending its neither black nor white a talisman of a new way of being in this world: 
 
much more whole for my many, many parts, my many dimensions that fit seam-
fully together, however separate they may appear from a vantage too near. 
They are integrated in a way that I’m learning to see, to trust, honor, allow. 
 
Broken into five pieces on this day of 10 — change. And so I take
this holy gift into my human hand feeling the edges of its broken
state, and I rejoice in my ability to know it as good. And so it is.

∞/∞

Eve Moore ©2021
© 
Photo: Eve Moore

Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well. 

For more of Eve Moore's amazing and heart centered poetry and writings, click here! 
http://www.crystalwind.ca/eve-moore

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix

This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.


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